Chapter 51

His eyes widened a little, like his sick brain wasn’t sure if he heard me right.

“What?” he rasped.

“You heard me.”

Dorian blinked slowly. “Why?”

I hesitated, suddenly aware of how insane this sounded. But I pushed through it.

“I read somewhere that skin-to-skin helps. It warms the body faster.”

His gaze sharpened, despite his condition.

“No.”

I exhaled sharply. “Dorian—”

“No,” he repeated, more firmly. “I’m not making you do that.”

My chest tightened. “You’re not making me do anything. I’m choosing to do it.”

His jaw clenched. “Amara, don’t.”

I stared at him for a long moment.

Then I bent down, my fingers brushing his cheek gently. His skin was hot.

“You’re shivering,” I whispered. “And you’re stubborn enough to die just to prove a point.”

His eyes flickered, his expression unreadable.

I swallowed, trying to lighten the heaviness building in my throat.

“Besides,” I added, voice quieter, “I can’t have you dying in my arms. What do you think the headline would be?”

His eyes narrowed slightly. I forced a weak smile.

“Billionaire dies in the hands of his P.A.”

For a second, there was silence. Then Dorian’s lips twitched. And he smiled. Not small. Not a smirk.

A real smile.

It was quick, like it escaped him before he could stop it, but it was there. And it changed his whole face.

My breath caught.

I stared at him like I’d just seen something I wasn’t meant to see.

“You just smiled,” I whispered.

His face immediately went blank again.

“I didn’t.”

“You did,” I insisted.

He looked away, his voice flat. “No.”

I shook my head slowly, still stunned.

“Glad to know I’m funny,” I muttered.

“You wish,” he said, but his voice wasn’t as sharp as usual.

My chest tightened again, but this time for a different reason. I reached for the hem of his hoodie.

“Let me help you.”

Dorian hesitated, then gave a slow nod. I pulled the hoodie up carefully. He lifted his arms weakly, letting me slide it off him. When it came off, my eyes landed on his bare chest.

I was stunned.

Not because I hadn’t seen men shirtless before. But because Dorian didn’t look like a man who spent time showing off. He looked like a man who trained for war.

Broad shoulders. Defined arms. A hard stomach. Everything about him looked built, controlled, dangerous.

My mind blanked for a second. Then I forced myself to breathe and looked away.

Focus, Amara. I stood up, swallowing.

“Now me,” I whispered to myself, more than to him.

I reached for my own top. The room suddenly felt too warm. I pulled it off slowly, leaving myself in my bra.

Dorian turned his head away immediately, like he was giving me privacy even while barely holding himself together.

It made something twist inside my chest. I didn’t want to feel anything about it, but I did. I turned off the lamp. The room sank into darkness again, only the faint city glow remaining.

Then I climbed onto the bed and slid under the blanket beside him. The moment my body touched his, he stiffened.

We were close. Too close.

My bare skin pressed against his. Heat met heat. His breathing changed. And mine did too.

For a moment, we just stared at each other in the dark. His eyes were darker than the room itself, heavy with something that had nothing to do with fever.

I swallowed, forcing my voice to come out steady.

“I hope this works,” I whispered.

And then I shifted closer, letting my warmth wrap around him.

Even though my heart was pounding like I was the one about to break.